Page 115 of Fallen Omega

“Dante?” She stalks up to me. “He’s a good patron.”

“I’ll get cleaned up,” I mutter. “He’s not welcome here anymore.”

Darcy pulls me close. “I love being part of this pack. You know I do, but either fuck that girl or get rid of her.”

“We can’t.” I pause. “Yet.”

“And we can’t give our clients a reason for a grudge. I’ll handle this.” Then she shoves me out the door. “Mr. Albion, you touched the bosses’ bitch,” she says as I hold the door open a little. “You didn’t notice his mark on her throat? It’s why her hair is up. She’s very much off limits. I’ll get someone to take you home and see to your injuries. And well make sure you’re taken care of?—”

Fuck that. Fury still whipping through me, I stride off. Lizette’s at the bar, shoulders hunched as the bartender puts drinks on her tray.

She gives me a stricken look as she goes back to serving.

No one else dares touch her.

Good.

I know I’m being a fucking dickwad, but the man put his hand between her legs. He’s fucking lucky Darcy stepped in.

Shame slides down my spine. Not at hitting the jerk, but because it took Darcy for me to see reason. I pride myself on my control, and I lost it in a millisecond because ofher.

Angel walking in set me off more. Made my blood start to go from boiling into steam.

Shit.

She’s fucking dangerous.

The most dangerous thing I’ve met.

Knight’s hot headed. I’m way more reasonable.

Except, apparently, when it comes to her.

I look up as she jerkily walks to the bar once more, and fuck, even like that, the ass has a slight wiggle, an airy bounce unique to her.

And she’s definitely not wearing panties.

The shorts are like second skin in some of the lights in here, showing off every damn line and crease of interest on her.

Inside me, things shift, grow restless, and I rise and go to her. “When I said not to wiggle, I didn’t mean sex robot walk.”

“You’re a violent ass, Dante,” she says, looking down. “I’mwalking. This is how I walk. It’s not a crime.” She then drags her gaze up, and she goes from subservient with brat energy to furious siren.

Because she is a fucking siren. Men would bash themselves to death on rocks to glimpse that body and face, and her voice when she sings…

The memory grips my cock.

I suck in air. “He touched you, and he should’ve died.”

“But I’m not yours.”

“You’re ours. As long as you’re with us, you're ours.”

“Servant or payment?”

“Candy treat, Angel. One with a kick.” I lean in. “They’re in suits, most of them, and they have money. But don’t be fooled. They’re feral fucks so don’t let them touch you.”

“If I want them to?”

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